Gold Fever
by goldieasj
Summary: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry find the stakes are too high when they gamble on gold - their lives!


_Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry find the stakes are too high when they gamble on gold - their lives!_

_**GOLD FEVER!**_

**By: Goldie**

Gold is wealth. Gold is power. Gold has the ability to turn strong intelligent men into simpering idiots, or timid men into fearless brutes.

_Gold!_ The mere sound of the word causes lust, excitement, anticipation. In the 1840s, before Hannibal Heyes and his partner Kid Curry were even born, gold was discovered in the great state of California, which prompted a Gold Rush. By 1884 the Rush had died down but the idea of gold lingered, like smoke after a fire. Gold promised a new life. And there was more gold waiting to be found, for those willing to look for it.

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were two of those people. After spending a few weeks in the mountains to be sure of safety from another posse, Heyes and Curry believed, one morning, that they saw something glittering on the bed of the shallow stream near their campsite. They had arrived there just the night before; it was a gold prospector's long-abandoned camp. They had been planning on breaking camp that morning but closer examination convinced them that there was indeed gold in that stream. Rudimentary panning equipment had been left behind! Heyes considered it to be fate.

Heyes and the Kid then endured one of the most arduous times of their lives while panning for gold. The pickings were slim, the mountain weather uncertain, the work was grueling and the meals were far from delicious. The two of them found relative safety in their makeshift campsite, but after a month of all work and no play, they found themselves longing for a break. Having spent much of the prior two years evading posses and avoiding populated areas in order to steer clear of the law, they were only too ready to relax - but panning for gold is hard, mainly unrewarding work. The labor - panning and sifting and scrutinizing - is hard and backbreaking, and aching bodies and limited company at the end of each day put the two of them in a bad mood. But there was gold - each day there was gold. At the end of every day they poured their small gain into a leather pouch and found some delight in the idea of performing an honest day's work for a dishonest day's pay.

They had no calendar with them, but when the weather started to be colder each day, they agreed that it was time to descend to the nearest town and cash in their findings. On the morning of their departure, their spirits had somewhat lifted, bolstered by the idea of moving on with the valuable leather bag of gold dust.

"How much you figure we got?" the Kid asked Heyes.

"Dunno, Kid. But I do know that this is about the thirty-seventh time you've asked me. That much I do know," answered Heyes.

"I figure it's somewhere between a thousand and three thousand dollars. I hope it's closer to three thousand," said the Kid thoughtfully. "Where is the bag, anyway?"

Heyes produced the little pouch of gold dust from his inside jacket pocket. "Here it is. Catch," he said, throwing it to his partner.

Heyes took the Kid by surprise, and the bag sailed past him. "Hey! That's our future! You should be more careful." He ran over to pick it up and flung it back at Heyes, who caught it before it sailed past him, too.

"I'm plenty careful," yelled Heyes, tossing the bag with a powerful throw back to his partner, who had to backpedal a few steps to catch it.

"Not careful e_nough!"_ yelled the Kid, tossing the bag hard at Heyes. This good-natured game of catch went on for some minutes, each of them throwing as hard as they could to outdo the other, each of them laughing, running, tripping, jumping. Their world at that moment was the enjoyment of the gold itself, the anticipation of once again having money to spend, and the break in the long period of grueling work. And they were enjoying their world. At that carefree moment, they were unaware of everything else.

Finally, Heyes threw the valuable little bag of gold dust over the head of the Kid, who jumped for it, deflecting but missing it and falling sideways into the stream! Heyes laughed so hard he fell to the ground. He laughed so hard his sides ached. Each time he tried to stand, he looked back to see his partner lying in the cold water, soaking wet, and he doubled over in laughter anew.

After a moment, Heyes realized his friend had not risen. He stopped laughing long enough to understand what had happened, and yelled "Kid!" when he saw the blood in the water. That one word was his only concession to sentiment; Heyes immediately became all business. In swift movements he tore off his jacket and unbuckled his gunbelt and threw them to the ground. He jumped into the water and scooped the Kid's half-submerged head in his hands. In a flash he assessed the damage and put his ear to his friend's face to listen for breathing. The Kid was alive but had received a nasty gash in his forehead as a result of falling directly on the rocks. Heyes kneeled in the shallow water to place the Kid's head in his arms. The Kid was unconscious but the only damage Heyes could see upon inspection was the one wound on the forehead. The cool clear water was rushing around them, making it hard for Heyes to keep the Kid still, treating them as it treated the rocks. The water and the rocks had been their friends not too long ago. Now Heyes was angry at them. And angry at himself for not reacting sooner.

It was only a moment before the Kid coughed and fluttered his eyelids. He shook his head a little and groaned and Heyes watched happily as he opened his eyes and looked at his partner. "Welcome back," said Heyes.

"Wh - what happened?" asked the Kid. "Oh, I remem ... Ow!" He groaned and put his hand to his head.

Heyes helped him to sit up in the water. He smiled. "Don't worry - you'll be all right. It's just a cut." Heyes meant the words as he said them, but was surprised to find himself consoled by his own voice.

The Kid felt the blood with his hand and seemed to think his partner might be right. All he said was, "Damn, I'm cold. This water's cold! Let's get out of this stream."

Heyes stood and bent down to lend a helping hand to the Kid to stand. The water was rushing around them and making it difficult for them to steady themselves, and the Kid's nasty bump on the head had caused some natural instability, anyhow. As soon as he got to his feet and steadied himself, they both heard . . .

"Stay where you are, gentlemen. Right there. In the water."

The noise of the water rushing over the rocks and the haste of the moment had kept both men from hearing anyone approaching. But when they looked up, they saw him. A rider tall in the saddle, holding a gun on them. A slovenly-looking man around their own age, wearing a slouch hat and a patched jacket. He gave the general impression of a gentleman down on his luck. He was coughing but still managed to hold the gun steady enough. "Now, I expect the powder in that gun of yours is wet, but just to be on the safe side, unbuckle the gunbelt and throw it up to me." This part was directed to the Kid. The gunman already had Heyes's gunbelt slung across his saddle.

The Kid was still a bit fuzzy but Heyes grasped the situation immediately. He nudged his partner, who then unbuckled and threw his gunbelt up to the gunman. When the gunman had both belts, he seemed satisfied. "Thank you, gentlemen. Kind of you." He coughed again and doubled over. Heyes felt the Kid make a sudden move to rush the thief, but held his friend back. They were at a complete disadvantage.

"Don't tell me this is a hold-up!" exclaimed Heyes. "We don't have anything worth taking. We're just a couple of drifters who got lost up here. We have nothing!"

The gunman laughed. "I suppose that's true. Now that I have these." He held up the gunbelts before slinging them over his saddle horn. "And this!" And he held up the bag of gold dust.

Heyes tried not to react, but he could feel his partner next to him tensing up.

"And now," said the gunman, turning his mount to the nearby tree where the Kid and Heyes had tied their horses, "I have your transportation, too. Thank you, gentlemen." And he began to ride away, leading their mounts.

"Wait!" called Heyes. "Don't leave us up here without horses. We're in the middle of nowhere!"

"Sorry, gents. You're not going to follow me. I've been waiting a long time for the two of you to let go of this bag, and I don't intend to let you get it back."

"You mean you've been _watching_ us?" Over his anger, the Kid was incredulous.

"Yup! Couple of days now. Waiting for this." And he kissed the bag. "You know, you really should get out of that stream. You'll catch your death."

"Wait!" called Heyes again. "At least leave us my saddlebag. It's got medical supplies in it, and my friend has a cut that needs tending to."

The man seemed to think it over and apparently decided that it was a reasonable request. "Which one's yours?" Heyes pointed to the bay, his horse. The gunman removed the saddlebag and threw it on the ground, after skimming the insides for a gun. Then he rode away at a canter with their two horses, laughing. They heard the laughter and stood in the stream until they could not hear it any more. Heyes climbed out first to lend a hand to his partner.

"Damn it!" yelled the Kid.

"Easy, Kid, let me take a look at that cut."

But the Kid was not about to be coddled. He was furious. "Damn you, Heyes! This is all your fault!"

"_My_ fault?!"

"You had to start that stupid tossing game. Couldn't leave well enough alone! We've been guarding that bag with our lives the last month. You had to throw it around!"

But Heyes refused to be baited. He remained calm and wrung out his neckerchief, one of the few dry pieces of clothing he had left, in the cool water. "Shut up, Kid," he said softly, "and let me take care of that cut."

His tone of voice soothed the Kid. It usually worked that way. The Kid sat on the ground and waited patiently while Heyes cleaned the wound on his forehead and wrung out the neckerchief in the stream again. "Here," said Heyes, handing the cloth to his friend. "Apply this to the wound with some pressure." He sat down next to his partner and sighed.

"Well, I suppose we'd better make a plan to get our gold back," said Hannibal Heyes.

Kid Curry leaned back on his arms and looked up at the sky. "Why doesn't anything ever go our way?"

* * *

An hour later the two of them were walking away from their camp in the direction the gunman took. Since it was his own saddle bag that had been left behind, Heyes was able to change into dry clothes. The Kid was wearing one of his friend's shirts, but the rest of his clothes were still wet. A dry neckerchief had been tied around his head to protect the wound. His boots were wet and he was miserable and crabby. "Damn it, Heyes! We're never going to find him and you know it!"

"I admit it's a challenge, all right, Kid, but you've got to have a little faith."

"Faith! Ha! In what? We worked hard for that gold. For over a month we worked for that gold! And this idiot just ups and takes it away from us!"

Heyes smiled. "Kind-of like being robbed, huh, Kid?"

"What?"

"Don't you appreciate the irony here?"

_"What!?"_

"Isn't this exactly what we used to do to people?"

"No! We never took anything from anyone who worked hard for it! We just stole from companies - banks and railroads. Never hurt any people!"

Heyes stopped walking and looked at his friend for a moment. By God, he was right. They never intentionally robbed any person, just companies, things.

They kept walking and were silent for a moment.

Then the Kid started in again. "Damn it, Heyes, I don't need this aggravation! I wanted that gold! I wanted what it stood for - food and women and warmth and sleeping in hotels and . . . and . . . not following tracks _on foot!_ This is crazy, Heyes, we're never going to find him!"

"Come on now, Kid. Have a little faith."

"There you go again. _Have a little faith._ In what, exactly?"

"Me, of course. I'll get our gold back if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Maybe I won't stick around long enough to find that out," murmured the Kid, not loud enough for his partner to hear.

But Heyes did hear him. And Heyes was silent.

They followed the horses' tracks for several hours in virtual silence. The rider had followed the stream down the mountain, at one point turning the horses into the water. He apparently felt that he would be harder to track in water but both Heyes and the Kid were experienced trackers who had little trouble finding the overturned stones and leaves and other signs of recent visitation. They were both hungry but the clear water at least quenched their thirst. Several times Heyes turned back to find the Kid staring at him. Glances were exchanged and Heyes wondered what his partner was thinking. As late afternoon turned into evening, they both realized that they would not reach civilization before nightfall.

"Guess we'd better make camp," said Heyes matter-of-factly.

"I'm hungry," complained the Kid.

"Me, too." Heyes looked around. Without a gun or the proper tools to make a trap, there was no chance of meat for supper. He spotted some wild mulberry bushes and they both ate mulberries until they couldn't stand the sight of them anymore. Then Heyes remembered that he had stuffed some beef jerky deep into his saddlebag. After some rummaging around, he found it and shared it with his partner.

"Thanks," said the Kid, grateful for something besides mulberries to eat. After a moment he said, "I'm sorry for what I said back there. I was mad. It's not true - this really isn't your fault."

Heyes gave him a small nod. He had been offended, it was true, and he wasn't proud of the fact that something small like that could hurt him. He had spent the last few hours thinking about a lot of things, the Kid's comments among them, as they walked. He had wondered how he would have reacted if such a comment had come from a stranger, and decided it would have meant nothing. But he and the Kid had spent almost their whole lives together and they were attuned to each other perfectly. The Kid's feelings were just as important to him as his own. He was relatively certain that the Kid had spoken in anger and without justification. A small smile followed the nod.

It was still light enough for them to make the best camp they could. Working as a team, something they had done all their lives, they managed to prepare the most comfortable night possible. The Kid built a fire using dry leaves and twigs as kindling. He then fashioned a sapling into a makeshift fishing pole to be used to catch breakfast in the morning. Heyes gathered a number of armfuls of dry leaves to use as a couple of "beds." When the fire was going strong, he threw some rocks in it to warm. After they were quite hot, he removed them with small branches and buried them a couple inches underground. He patted down the earth over them and was satisfied that it was warm enough to sleep on. Then he threw some of the dry leaves over the warm earth - the feather bed of the wild - and placed the rest of the dry vegetation nearby to be used as "blankets."

With full stomachs, they determined it would be wise to retire early. They hung their still-wet boots and socks on low-lying branches to hopefully dry during the night. Heyes provided them both with dry warm socks from his saddlebag. The rest of the Kid's clothes had finally dried, but he was sniffling and sneezing from wearing damp clothing for several hours. Heyes felt sorry for his friend, but there wasn't much more he could do in their predicament. They were both cold that night, but they managed to sleep fitfully.

* * *

Heyes woke first, at dawn, thoroughly chilled. He checked out their boots and was happy to see that the boots had dried completely. He then stoked the dying fire and enjoyed it until he felt that he was no longer chilled. He worried momentarily about the Kid, who had been in wet clothes the previous day. A glance at the Kid buried under all those leaves brought a smile to his face. He allowed his gaze to linger a moment at the wound on his friend's forehead. It appeared to be clean and free of infection. Ruing the fact that their coffee tin had been taken with their stolen supplies, Heyes tied some twine onto the Kid's makeshift fishing pole and tied a berry onto the end of the twine. Since he couldn't think of anything to fashion as a hook, he readied his knife to throw at any fish curious enough to swim to the surface to investigate the bait. He figured it was the silliest fishing he had ever done, but when it worked, he was able to smugly throw a fish into the fire to cook.

The smell of cooking food was what apparently woke the Kid. He was very stiff at first, but an unexpected round of coughing served to quickly stretch some inflexible muscles. When he was finally able to get the coughing under control, the Kid sat up, took some deep breaths, and saw his partner for the first time that morning.

Heyes had been watching him the whole time. "Doesn't sound too good, Kid."

"Nah . . . uh . . ." The Kid surprised himself with a very deep voice. Clearly he had caught cold and it had penetrated to his lungs during the night.

"You don't sound like yourself. You sound like that singer we saw over in Carterville last year. The one with the deep voice that all the women swooned over."

"Well, go ahead and swoon over me if you have to." The Kid's voice was very deep. His joke fell flat when they both realized that he would probably have to suffer with the lung infection for some time.

"How do you feel?"

"This doesn't feel any too good."

For the first time, Heyes noticed a glistening on his partner's forehead. Suddenly concerned, he sat down next to the Kid and felt his forehead. "You've got a fever, Kid," he said. "You sound like you've got a hell of a cold. Or worse, a touch of the grippe. Can you walk? We've got to get you off this mountain and inside a nice warm hotel somewhere."

"I'm all for that. Maybe today we'll . . ." The Kid stood up but became dizzy instantly and fell back down. Heyes tried, at least somewhat successfully, to break his fall.

"Eat something, Kid. You need some strength because if you're up to it, it looks like we still have quite a walk ahead of us." He handed his partner some of the fish, skewered between two sticks.

"No, thanks, I'm not hungry," the Kid said in his new bass voice.

"I'm sure you're not, but, like I said - the walk . . ."

The Kid looked at Heyes and saw the imploring look in his eyes. "Guess you're right," he whispered, and began to nibble at his breakfast. Satisfied, Heyes removed the Kid's boots from the branches and assured him of their dryness. He threw them near the fire to warm while the Kid ate.

In a few minutes, they were ready to go. The day was cold but they had their jackets and dry clothes and they would be walking, which would keep the blood flowing. The Kid was a bit unsteady on his feet so Heyes allowed him to lead in case he himself was needed for support.

They continued to follow the stream down the mountain, the stream gradually widening the lower they got. On a couple of occasions, Heyes thought he saw the glint of gold through the rushing waters. Under other circumstances, he would probably have jumped into the water to investigate further. But these were hard times. His only goal at that moment was to get his partner to safety.

Because the Kid was in bad shape, their pace was slow. Heyes noticed that his friend plodded along with his eyes half-closed, often narrowly missing low-hanging branches. Often he slipped on the damp rocks or the lichen on the ground. The Kid couldn't go more than a few minutes without coughing. Sometimes they had to stop so he could lean against a tree for support. Heyes was very concerned for his partner. His cold was obviously worsening.

Although it was autumn and the cold air was nipping at them, they both removed their jackets. When the sun was shining, it was warm as they walked. In addition, the Kid had a fever. He wasn't delirious, but he often mumbled about the gold they had lost as he walked. Heyes did not respond to him so as to keep him from getting upset.

When the sun was highest in the sky, Heyes suggested they stop to refresh themselves. The Kid said nothing and slumped against a tree. Using his hat as a pitcher, Heyes brought some fresh water to the Kid. He then broke out the remainder of the beef jerky that had been in his jacket pocket.

"Here," he said, handing it all to the Kid, "this is the last of it."

The Kid mumbled something about not being hungry but took a piece to eat when Heyes wouldn't take no for an answer.

"S'all I want. You eat the rest."

Heyes sighed and ate another piece of the jerky, placing the remaining two pieces back in his pocket. He reached over and removed the Kid's hat to check the wound.

"Looks good, Kid. Healing nicely," he said, gently replacing the hat.

The Kid fell into another coughing jag. Heyes reached out to him, but the Kid waved his partner away. When he had stopped, he took as deep a breath as he could and asked Heyes, "How are we ever going to find this guy?" Although there was anger in his voice, it was clear that most of his energy was siphoning into the effort of staying lucid.

"We'll get our gold back. Don't worry about it, Kid. But right now the only thing that matters is getting you to the nearest town to a doctor and a warm hotel room." He stood up and looked around meaninglessly. "Where IS the nearest town, anyway? I thought there were towns wherever there were mountain streams. I'd have thought we'd run into one by now." He helped the Kid up. "Maybe there's one just up ahead. Let's get going, partner."

But there was no town and no sign of civilization. They continued to trudge down the mountain, the Kid's energy level descending rapidly. Heyes often had to use one hand to steady his partner. Heyes acted as the eyes and ears for both of them, since the Kid was obviously too sick to be alert.

By now Heyes was extremely concerned for his partner. And he was right to be worried. The Kid was now running a full-blown fever and sweating profusely. Each coughing spell seemed to weaken him more. His condition was deteriorating rapidly as the day progressed. By late afternoon, he fell to his knees and gasped, "Can't . . . go . . . on."

"It's all right, it's all right," comforted Heyes, helping the Kid to sit against a tree. "You've done enough for today. It's all right, Kid."

Once again, the Kid doubled over in a coughing spell. This time he did not fight when Heyes tried to hold him steady. In fact, he gripped Heyes's arm for support. More than anything else that had gone before, this simple gesture worried Heyes. The Kid reaching out to him meant that the Kid was figuratively giving up. Heyes allowed the Kid to hold him as long as he wanted to. When the Kid finally leaned back against the tree, exhausted, Heyes looked around for a tall branch or rock that would support his own weight. He found an accessible tree and climbed it as far as he could to look around. There was no sign of a town anywhere. The dearth of food and the concern for his partner were beginning to affect Heyes. He climbed down the tree, a little too quickly perhaps, and fell to the ground from the lowest branch. He was unhurt but shaken. He was even more upset when he saw the haunted look the Kid gave him. The Kid clearly wanted to help but was too exhausted to move. "I'm all right," Heyes reassured him.

The day was beginning to chill and Heyes knew only too well how cold the night would be. After bringing water for his partner and checking on the head wound, Heyes built a fire large enough to last through the night, once again tossing rocks in the flames. The arm movement of throwing reminded him of the game of catch they had played with their ill-fated gold. Was it only yesterday morning? It seemed like a week ago. So much had happened since then, and none of it good.

His partner seemed to be sleeping, so Heyes wandered off to look for something to eat. He found a different kind of berries, and some mushrooms that looked edible. He saw some wildflowers and remembered that someone had once told him that all flowers were edible, but he discarded the idea, thinking there was not enough food value for someone suffering from the grippe.

When he returned to their makeshift camp, the Kid was lying on the cold ground, coughing and wheezing. Heyes dragged him closer to the fire and leaned him up against a boulder. The Kid opened his eyes, pleased to feel the heat and see the fire. "Thanks," he said in his husky voice. "How far - from town?"

"Don't know, Kid. Won't be today anymore yet. It'll be dark soon. We've walked as far as we're about to today. How are you feeling?"

"Not too good. Think I might be getting sick."

Heyes smiled at that. "Do you remember walking today?"

The Kid thought about it. "Yeah. I'm cold." There was a pause between most of his words. It seemed to be a great effort for him to speak. His deep voice was still obvious, but now his words were whispered.

Without hesitating, Heyes removed his own jacket and put it over the Kid's chest. The Kid said thanks with his eyes, and Heyes nodded.

They shared their makeshift supper of berries and mushrooms. Heyes was going to hand the remaining beef jerky to the Kid, but had an idea and put it back away. For the most part, Heyes had to force the Kid to eat. But afterward, both felt at least partly refreshed. Darkness had fallen and the night air was cool. The fire felt good to both of them.

The Kid continued to cough throughout the evening. Heyes wondered at how ill he had become. He had never seen anyone fail so quickly in the clutches of the grippe. The Kid's energy level was very low, and his fever was very high. He coughed almost continuously and Heyes knew that his lungs were infected. "You know, Kid, maybe this is so bad because you've had it before." Heyes soaked his neckerchief in the cool stream water and applied it to the Kid's forehead, but it didn't seem to affect the fever. And he had to stop each time the Kid coughed.

At one point when he caught his breath, the Kid looked sadly up at his friend. "Heyes," he rasped, "you go on without me."

Heyes was genuinely shocked. "No! Stop talking like that! You get some sleep." He had prepared a "bed" for the Kid by digging a long shallow hole like he had the night before. Now he grabbed some of the rocks from the fire with the aid of criss-crossed sapling branches and dumped them in the hole, covering them with dirt and then leaves. He helped the Kid to lie on top of the rocks and then covered him with leaves. His job finished, he asked the Kid if he was comfortable.

"Fine. Now you'll be cold."

Heyes hadn't even given a thought to how he would survive the cold night. The Kid was wearing both their jackets. Heyes suddenly realized how chilly it was and shivered. He quickly dug another shallow hole right next to the Kid and placed more rocks in it, covering it also with earth and leaves. There wasn't much vegetation to throw over himself, so he nestled up close to the Kid and stole some warmth. He was gratified to hear the Kid's nasal snoring. Although he did not sleep well that night , Hannibal Heyes awoke the next morning, happy to still be alive.

But unable to move. Except for intense shivering, Heyes was stiff as a board. He looked over at the fire and saw that it had dwindled down to almost nothing. He had his back to the Kid and couldn't turn his head to see the condition of his friend. He had to slowly work his body around so that he was lying on his back, and then he could finally see the Kid, who was sleeping fitfully.

Thankful for small miracles, Heyes massaged his legs and arms as best he could to return some circulation and warmth. After a few minutes, he was able to stand. The first order of business was the re-kindling of the fire. The second was getting warm. Although he was wearing several layers of clothing, Heyes needed his jacket to stay warm. And the Kid was wearing it. Heyes was unwilling to make his friend part with the jacket.

For the dozenth time in the last couple days, Heyes wished intensely for a cup of hot coffee. It wasn't going to happen. There wasn't even any kind of pot to heat water in. Even hot water would have felt good going down.

When the Kid groaned and moved, Heyes kneeled down next to him. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

The Kid's sickness had undoubtedly gotten much worse during the long night. He was sweating profusely. He seemed unable to focus completely on Heyes. When he spoke, it was clear he had lost his voice completely. "M'hot," he whispered. "Water!"

Heyes hesitated a moment, unable to move. He had expected the Kid to get better during the night, thinking that the fever would have broken and the healing process would begin. This was not the case, and the condition of the Kid was frightening. Heyes and the Kid were both proficient at protecting each other from enemies, but this attacker was unseen! How could he help his friend if he didn't understand what was attacking him? How could he fight an unseen enemy? How could he fight without the proper weapons? The proper tools?

And how could he help the Kid if he was sick himself?

Heyes realized with a shock that he was also beginning to feel ill. He was cold and he was malnourished and there was no end to their journey in sight. A strong involuntary shudder shook his body and he hugged himself. He was getting what the Kid had! And he was the only hope for the Kid! This couldn't happen! He was the only hope for the Kid!

The Kid whispered "Water" again and looked at his partner with imploring eyes. Heyes's momentary dazed spell was broken and he rushed to the creek with his hat to scoop up fresh water for his partner. He kneeled down next to the Kid and helped him to sit up in order to drink. When the Kid had finished, Heyes felt him lose strength and collapse in his arms. The Kid was so sick that he had no power. He was having trouble doing something simple like breathing and had no strength for anything else. Heyes hugged him tightly, unwilling to lay him back down. Heyes wondered how they had gotten into this mess and remembered the passion for gold they had felt. It seemed like an eternity ago. Now the gold fever had been replaced with real fever. The morning was cold and it felt good to Heyes to be hugging his friend. But the Kid had already started losing weight due to the lack of proper nutrition. The bones in his shoulders were already starting to protrude and were noticeable even through the jackets. Heyes was weak and overwhelmed and he felt like crying. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the crook of his friend's neck. In a moment he felt the Kid's hand reach up and cover his own.

That was all it took to bring Heyes to his senses. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face. He stood and steadied himself. In a moment, he could speak in a fairly firm voice. "Kid, I - I have to go for help. I don't want to, but . . ." He looked down. " . . . but I have to leave you here. It'll be faster if . . . if you're not . . ." Ashamed, he felt hot tears in his eyes again. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the Kid.

"I know," whispered the Kid. "Go!"

Heyes couldn't look the Kid in the eye. "I'll be back as soon as . . ."

"Heyes!" This was a fierce whisper, strong enough to startle Heyes. Heyes looked down at his partner. "Heyes, take your jacket!"

"I don't want it, Kid."

"Take it!" This was the voice of determination. The Kid leaned forward and slowly began the process of shaking the jacket from his shoulders. "Take it, I said!"

Heyes reached gingerly down and removed the jacket from the Kid. He kneeled down and looked his partner in the eye for a moment. Nothing more was said, but there was a deep love obvious in the looks they gave each other. And deep appreciation.

Before leaving, Heyes revived the fire and threw more rocks in it. He dug a new bed for the Kid and placed the heated rocks in it, covering them with the leaves he removed from the Kid. He then helped the Kid to lie down and covered him carefully with the leaves, placing saplings on top to insure that the leaves were not blown away. He removed the rocks from the old bed and threw them in the fire, although he knew the Kid was too weak to use them as replacements. He left the Kid in a slightly inclined position and placed fresh water in the Kid's inverted hat, which he placed next to his head. There was nothing more he could do, and the longer he delayed, the longer it would be before he could bring help back. The way he was feeling, Heyes was far from sure that he would reach help before he himself succumbed to the fever.

He left their camp a moment later, telling the Kid he would be back as soon as possible with help, but he was unable to look back at him.

* * *

The Kid was comfortable and warm, thanks to his friend, and he spent most of the day sleeping. Sometimes he woke because he was too hot and sometimes he woke because he was too cold. Upon waking, he always drank water from the makeshift pitcher Heyes had left near his head. By mid-afternoon the Kid woke suddenly and wondered what had awakened him. He lay very still and used his senses to investigate everything around him. Although the sun was shining directly on him, nothing seemed to present any danger. He concentrated harder and came to the happy realization that he had awakened because he was feeling better! He sat up and was grateful to feel the return of the strength he thought he had lost forever. He rocked his head back and forth, he made fists with his hands, he swung his arms around. Everything worked! "Ho, ho!" he said, and was startled to hear the sound of the voice he knew the best, not the deep one of the past couple days, or the whisper of the morning.

The Kid felt his forehead - it was cool. No more perspiration. "Damn fever finally broke," he said aloud. He stood up, and, although his legs were a bit wobbly from lack of food, he was able to stand with little trouble. Walking around presented little problem, either. He walked in circles for a minute, laughing. He raised his hands to the heavens and shouted, "I thought I was going to die!"

Suddenly he remembered his partner had gone for help. "Heyes!" he yelled at the top of his still-tender lungs, realizing in retrospect that Heyes was probably several hours away by now.

The clothes the Kid was wearing were soaked through with sweat. He removed his shirt and flung it to the ground. He then noticed the saddlebag that Heyes had left behind. He rummaged through it for anything that might be of use. There was a clean dry shirt and he put it on happily. Heyes had another pair of pants in there but the Kid knew they would not fit. He removed his own trousers and underclothes and fashioned a drying rack out of twigs and set it near the fire, which he then brought back to life. He exchanged his socks for a dry pair from the bag and replaced his boots. His growling stomach was the next order of business. He remembered there were fish in the stream and was about to reach for the knife when something caught his eye. It was Heyes's neckerchief, balled up and lying on the ground near where he had been lying. He picked it up and unrolled it. Inside were the last two pieces of beef jerky.

The Kid just stared at the food for a minute. Heyes must have left it for him.. Heyes had left food and water for him - a dying man. The Kid kneeled and pondered the neckerchief thoughtfully as he slowly chewed on the beef. Heyes should really have taken his last food source with him for his journey. Because he didn't, that meant he had no food with him. Instead, he left it for his dying friend. It didn't make sense.

Slowly he grasped the situation. Yes, it did make sense. Heyes cared enough about him to give up all he had. It was a gift of love. The Kid's expression softened as he tried to remember what had happened. He vaguely remembered watching Heyes leave their camp. Before that, he remembered Heyes tending to his comfort, giving him water, holding him. He remembered being cared for deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, there was a little smile on his lips. The one thought in his mind was how lucky he was.

The Kid managed to spear himself a fish with the knife. After cooking it briefly in the dying embers, he ate happily, practically feeling the strength return to his muscles as he chewed. Berries and the delicious spring water finished off the meal. By this time, the sun was low in the sky and the Kid knew it would be foolish to attempt to travel the woods at night. He donned his dry clothes and threw rocks in the fire in anticipation of the cold night. It felt good to be alive. It felt good to be able to feel everything - even the oncoming cold air.

The cold air! The Kid found more wood for the fire and stoked it. He prepared his "bed" for the night. There was a small shaving mirror in the saddlebag and he examined the bruise on his head. It seemed to look all right, if not great, but he washed it clean again and tied his neckerchief around his head to protect the wound. His hunger sated and his campsite ready for the night, the Kid sat against a tree and watched the sun set, appreciating its beauty over the stream. The cold night air arrived suddenly so he put on his jacket and lay down to sleep. Sleep was evasive, at first, because he kept thinking about everything Heyes had done for him to keep him alive. His partner meant a great deal to him, and it was obvious that love was returned to him. Heyes truly had been responsible for saving his life. And now Heyes had gone for help, believing that the Kid was dying. A twinge of guilt stabbed at the Kid, and it turned to anger as he thought about the bag of gold and how they had let it represent everything to the two of them for a month. At least to him, anyhow.

An early start in the morning was important to the Kid. He had to find Heyes.

* * *

Hannibal Heyes used that shrewd brain of his to reason out his possibilities.

Leaving the Kid behind was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. But he had managed it, and now he had to think about the quickest way he could get help back to him. Finding a town or even a home was imperative. And time was of the essence, too. The Kid looked to be at death's door when Heyes had left him and Heyes was very, very worried. And another worry was the way Heyes himself was feeling. He was ailing as well, either from the bug the Kid had or from the chill they had received. He was beginning to feel weak and knew he had a fever. He was coughing as well, just the same as the Kid had been, and sometimes he doubled over in an attempt to try to stop.

His trek at first had been at a quick pace, practically running down the mountain alongside the stream, but as the day wore on, his strength failed him and he found the going arduous. Hannibal Heyes was sick. And the main thought in his mind was that his illness would keep him from getting help back quickly enough to save his partner.

He never thought about himself.

By early afternoon, Heyes ran across a clearing near the stream. In the clearing was a small unpainted shack that looked to be at least fifty years old.

"Hello the house!" Heyes tried to yell, surprised to find that he had lost his voice. He loped as quickly as possible to the house and knocked on the door. At the first contact, the door fell open, creaking loudly. Heyes looked inside.

This clearly had not been the dwelling of anyone in recent memory. There were a couple odds and ends of furniture and an empty gun rack, but all of it was covered in thick coats of dust. Heyes spotted some empty food cans on the floor and scrutinized them hungrily, but they were ancient and devoid of edible food. He scouted around and looked for anything that he could use for the Kid, or any clue as to how long the inhabitants might have been gone, but there was absolutely nothing he could use. Animals lived in the house and scurried away as he rummaged around. Dejected, Heyes sat at the table and held his aching head in his hands. This house was no help. And it was too early in the day to even use it as a nighttime shelter. Heyes was feeling worse and worse and he felt his eyes moisten again. But reason still was able to prevail and he knew he had to keep trudging along. He knew he should eat something, even though he did not feel like it. He also knew that animals living in the house would probably have depleted any nearby food source so there was no point in wasting time hunting for any food in the area. He wiped his sleeve across his face and his forehead and stood heavily. As he left the dwelling he attempted to slam the door but did not have enough strength to do it.

His possibilities were lessening. He needed to find a town and he needed it quick. Before he couldn't walk any more. Before the Kid died.

By nightfall Heyes was finally ready to stop for the day. He knew he was not close to any civilization. His head hurt and his entire body ached and his lungs felt like they were filled with lead. Each step was drudgery. He pieced together some small dry twigs as kindling and was able to light a match to start a fire, but was unable to move to find rocks he could heat and use for warmth. He dropped to his knees and then lay down near the fire. He was too weak to look for berries. His mouth was dry and reminded him to dip his hat in the stream for water, but when he felt for his hat, it was gone. He had a vague memory of the wind blowing it off his head several hours earlier.

Heyes curled himself into a fetal position, facing the fire. He felt horrible and did not think he would live through the night. This did not concern him. His only worry was for his friend Kid Curry. Heyes knew he had let down his friend.

Heyes did not sleep much during the night. He passed in and out of consciousness. When lucid, he was able to place extra sticks in the waning fire. As long as they were within reach. His thoughts and his dreams were all of his partner. He knew he had let the Kid down. He believed the Kid was probably dead by then. And Heyes just didn't understand how he could have failed him so miserably. Heyes thought about the abandoned house he had passed several hours ago and knew that help would have already reached the Kid had there been anyone living there. It was bad luck. What they'd had most of their adult lives. Once again, Heyes wanted to cry, but this time he simply did not have enough strength.

When he started shivering dramatically he tried to pull his jacket tighter around him but couldn't. Hannibal Heyes simply did not have the strength.

He drifted off into a deep sleep by the time the sun rose. He did not stir and appeared dead.

* * *

That morning, the Kid rose early and took stock of his own condition. He was still coughing, but now it was the cough that meant healing. His fever was completely gone and he felt somewhat refreshed. He removed his clothes and quickly washed himself in the stream, replacing his clothes rapidly lest he get chilled again. A quick shave with Heyes's shaving tools revived him even more. He did not wish to take the time to catch and cook a fish so he decamped immediately and took off in the direction Heyes had taken, following the stream and eating berries and anything that looked edible along the way. He was pleased that his appetite had returned. The Kid was in a wonderful mood, now that he knew he was going to survive, and he even whistled occasionally. Whenever he saw footprints or other signs of his partner, his spirits were elevated even more. Every once in a while he called out Heyes's name but never received an answer.

Around mid-day he noticed what appeared to be his partner's hat lying near the stream. He ran to pick it up and happily called out for Heyes, but there was no answer. He frowned and stared at the hat. Heyes would never have left his hat behind, but there were no foot prints in any direction except continuing onward. The Kid came to the sad conclusion that Heyes may not even have noticed that he had lost his hat. And that meant that he was very, very ill. The Kid thought back to how he himself had felt the last couple of days, and there were hours that were completely gone from his memory. He had been gravely ill and he knew it now. But he was strong enough to recover. What if Heyes was not that strong?

Now the Kid was panicked. He picked up the pace as he descended the mountain, his every thought with his partner. The going was rough but there were continuing visible signs that Heyes had preceded him and the Kid's spirits were bolstered by hope.

Soon he came to the same shack that Heyes had visited. He knew that it was probably abandoned as there were no signs of life. But his gunfighter instincts forced him to approach carefully, entering the area from the back and peering through the window before entering the building. He faced the same scene that Heyes had - the dusty furniture, the mess on the floor, the insects and animal tracks. It was depressing and the Kid left immediately, continuing to follow Heyes's tracks down the mountain.

As he walked, the Kid offered a silent prayer of thanks for the miraculous recovery he had made from what had been a very intense illness. He could not recall ever having been that sick, even as a child. It came on quickly, and it hit him hard. He had caught the grippe only the winter before, so perhaps, like Heyes had said, his condition made him more susceptible to illness. Also, he had been cold from the wet clothes he was forced to wear. He was most likely lucky to still be alive.

He thought back to the man who had robbed them of their gold. Trying to put his anger to the back of his mind for a moment, he was able to recall the man coughing. Undoubtedly this man had the bug that he and Heyes had both caught. Now there was another reason to find him. Not just to get their gold back, but to kill him. Or to challenge him. Or maybe to beat him. A little.

The Kid found he could not work up the kind of anger he had felt at the time they were being robbed. He knew how badly he had felt with this illness and he didn't wish it on anyone else, even the man who had taken their hard-earned gold. This train of thought returned to his partner, who now had the ailment. Heyes did not have the benefit of horses to carry him to a doctor, or guns to hunt for food, or bedrolls to keep him warm in the cold nights. Heyes did not have anything that could protect him from the elements except his own shrewdness. And that would be affected by the fever and the aches, the Kid knew all too well. Anger for the stranger who was responsible for their condition changed into an intense concern for Heyes. The Kid knew he was suffering.

When the Kid knelt at the stream to take a drink, Heyes's hat, which had been carelessly slung over his shoulder, fell forward. The Kid grasped it and looked at it. It was the same hat that his partner had worn for a long time, but now it seemed to look different. Now it had a special meaning. Now it was the only thing he had that was a personal symbol of Heyes - in fact, the hat and the saddlebag he was carrying were the only things left of Heyes at all. This thought left a hole in his heart. It was in fact very possible that Heyes would be dead by the time he found him. The Kid had been considering taking the time to spear and cook a fish, but this last thought spurred him into leaving immediately. He knew that Heyes was very ill, if he was even still alive, and he might be able to catch up with him before nightfall. The Kid stood and took off at a quick pace again. He ignored the lingering effects the disease had put on his lungs.

A couple of hours later the Kid noticed a new kind of track that had joined the footprints of his partner. He knelt closely and ascertained that it was the print of a horse! A shod horse, not a wild one. A horse had come from the woods to drink at the stream, and then had turned to follow the stream down the mountain. The Kid was a good enough tracker to understand that Heyes's tracks had preceded the animal's, but it did look strangely like they were walking together. The Kid was very concerned that this could be the horse carrying the gold robber. Who knows what he might do if he ran across Heyes in his physically depleted condition? Now the Kid felt a twinge of panic and picked up his pace dramatically as he descended the mountain.

The terrain was uneven, but he was rewarded after a couple more hours of walking. Ahead, he heard the sound of a horse's whinny. Not knowing what to expect, the Kid crept stealthily forward, unwilling to be discovered. His approach was noiseless, and when he came into sight of the animal, he and the horse were surprised simultaneously.

It was his own horse, the one that had been stolen from him. The saddle and reins were intact, as well as the saddlebag and sleeping bag tied on the back. The Kid was overjoyed; it appeared that everything he owned (except his gun and the gold, of course) had now been opportunely placed before him. The horse clearly recognized him but was still skittish, so the Kid approached him slowly, cooing softly as he went. He easily gained control of the reins and began to massage the star on the forehead when he noticed something on the ground on the far side of the horse.

Heyes!

The Kid quickly tied the reins to a bush and rushed to kneel down next to his partner. Heyes was very, very ill. His forehead was hot and he was flushed. He was either sleeping or had lost consciousness. The Kid noticed the front of Heyes's shirt was damp; apparently the horse had been nuzzling him. The Kid gently shook his partner. "Heyes! Heyes! Wake up, buddy!" There was no response. The Kid maneuvered behind him and sat him up, leaning his partner against his own chest. But rather than pick him up, he put his arms around Heyes and held him for a minute. He needed to think what to do rather than act rashly. He tried to remember all he had gone through in the last couple of days and to reason out what would be necessary to heal his partner. As he was thinking, he became aware that Heyes was cool to the touch. He saw the campfire that had gone dead, probably several hours before. Although this was not good, it was gratifying that the sun was shining strongly and had warmed the day. The Kid hoped his partner had not been lying there on the cold ground all through the night. Now he knew the things he must do, and he was ready to spring to action. But something stopped him. The thought came into his mind that Heyes was very close to dying. This hit him hard. He hugged his unconscious partner tightly, mouthing pleas. For a few minutes, he was unwilling to let go.

Eventually, he rose, laying Heyes gently back on the ground. The first thing he did was grab the sleeping bag and maneuver it around Heyes so he would no longer be exposed to the cold. Now he knew a fire would be necessary to provide outside warmth. Heyes had provided a modest pile of sticks near the fire and they had been within his reach, but he apparently had lost consciousness. The Kid now kindled these into a nice-sized flame and threw dry debris and logs on the pile. He knew it would not be long before a large campfire would be available to warm the two of them for the night. And he knew that they would undoubtedly have to spend the night right there; Heyes could not be moved.

Rocks, of course, went into the fire to provide future warmth. Then the Kid sat by the stream until a fish swam by. A quick flick of the wrist implanted the knife and supper was then thrown on the fire. The Kid retrieved the tin cups and coffee canister in his saddlebag. He filled one cup with the ground coffee and water and set it precariously near the fire to warm. The other cup was filled with cool stream water.

He then sat next to Heyes and used his fingers to dab cool water on his forehead. Heyes's breathing seemed to be becoming more regular and stronger. But just when the Kid was taking it as a good sign, Heyes started to cough feebly and started gasping for breath. The Kid sat him upright and leaned his head forward. Heyes continued to cough for some minutes until he was completely worn out. The Kid felt sorry for his partner; whatever had invaded his body was destructive and relentless. When Heyes finally stopped coughing, the Kid wrapped his arms around him again and held him tightly. He wasn't sure if he was doing that to make Heyes feel better. Or himself.

In a moment, he heard his partner's weak voice. "Who is it?"

Overjoyed, the Kid held his partner at arm's length. "Heyes, it's me," he said gently. "How are you doing?"

"Kid?" Heyes's voice was very weak and his eyes were closed. The coughing spell had taken a lot out of him, but now he seemed to find strength even as the Kid watched. He opened his eyes slowly and stared at his partner. "Kid! I thought you were dead! Thank God ..." His voice trailed off and he bowed his head and reached for the Kid's shoulder. "Thank God," he said again softly, and rested his head against the Kid's chest. "I'm fine now," the Kid whispered. They chose not to move for a few minutes.

The Kid was the first to break the embrace. He leaned Heyes against a nearby tree, propping a rolled-up shirt behind his head. He smiled gently and bowed his head when he saw heartfelt appreciation in his partner's eyes. Heyes looked at him longingly. "Glad you made it," he whispered.

The Kid stood up. "Yeah, I made it. You will,too. I know it's bad now, Heyes, but I'm alive to tell you it won't last. Just wait it out; you'll get better." His voice carried more conviction than he felt. He reached for the cup of coffee. "Can you drink any?" he offered.

Heyes couldn't believe the good luck that brought him this messenger from God. He had given up on the Kid and on himself, and now they were together and the Kid was well! He knew he was in good hands. For a moment he was speechless. The coughing spell took his breath away, but now so did his elation. He meant to accept the coffee with thanks, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, "Kid, I'm . . . glad . . . you're . . ." The Kid looked at him and read his mind. He nodded solemnly. Placing the coffee in Heyes's hands, he wrapped his own hands around them, helping Heyes to drink. Heyes shook his head and looked at the cup of cold water. The Kid switched cups and again assisted him. Heyes then leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes tightly. The Kid watched him, surprised to see tears begin to appear on his friend's cheeks. The Kid looked away momentarily but soon began to feel the overwhelming relief himself. He put his hand on his partner's shoulders. No further words needed to be spoken. The business of being alive was complete.

The business of _staying_ alive had to begin.

The Kid attended to Heyes as much as he could. They both shared the cooked fish, the Kid eating the largest portion by far, of course. He made sure Heyes continued to drink the water. They found that he liked it best when it was heated a little bit. When the sun set, it became clear that this would be the coldest night so far. The stars were brilliant and so close it seemed they could be touched. Heyes could not speak above a whisper, so the Kid spoke to him as he prepared their sleeping areas. He spoke of their prospecting, and of the man who robbed them. He spoke of their train-robbing days and of the amnesty that was sure to be offered them some day. He spoke of their childhood together, when they had lived near each other. He reminded Heyes of all the childhood illnesses they had contracted. He told Heyes he felt that this grippe, or whatever it was, had been the worst illness he had ever experienced. The Kid just kept talking, until finally Heyes whispered for him to please stop.

Heyes needed to sleep, so the Kid helped ease him onto the earth-covered warm rocks. Tonight the sleeping bag would help keep him warm. To make sure there were no more chills, the Kid removed the saddle blanket and placed it over his partner. Heyes fell asleep immediately, breathing heavily. The Kid checked his temperature, as he had often that day, and was not happy with the results. He dabbed cool water on his partner's forehead.

The Kid had to acknowledge his own weaknesses. He was far from completely well after his bout with this mysterious illness. His strength was sapped and he found his eyes closing much earlier than normal. Since his "bed" was already prepared, he lay down for the night and covered himself with extra clothes. He slept more fitfully than Heyes, because he was listening for any sound that might indicate his partner needed him.

At dawn the Kid woke and checked his partner first thing. It was an exceptionally cold morning, so the Kid believed it would be best to let Heyes sleep as long and as comfortably as possible. He was relieved to find that the fever had mostly broken. Heyes's forehead was still warm, but no longer hot. He did not appear to be sweating. His breathing was abrasive and irregular, but he was definitely alive. And in better shape than the Kid had seen him the night before. The Kid breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Quietly he attended to the morning tasks. This morning there was a horse to pack. He saddled his horse, placing both saddlebags behind the saddle. He picked some edible mushrooms for their breakfast and placed some water and coffee beans in the tin cups over the fire. He sat by the fire, shivering in the cold and watching his partner attentively.

Soon Heyes woke up and coughed to begin the process of clearing his lungs. It was finally possible to do so. He felt much better and told the Kid so. The Kid said that he was better as well. They ate a meager breakfast together and then the Kid told Heyes his plan.

The hope that Heyes had abandoned had returned. He felt much stronger and now that he saw the Kid alive and in better health, he wished the same for himself. The Kid assisted Heyes with walking around a little to get the blood moving in his legs again. Then he helped his friend into the saddle. With only one horse, it would be Heyes who would be riding. The Kid doused the fire, and they were on their way.

With good health promised in their futures, the world looked rosier to both of them. Now as they walked along, at a quicker pace due to the assistance of the horse, they were able to enjoy the beauty of the stream and the woods around them. They saw deer and other animals that they had probably ignored the last couple of days. It just felt so good to be alive! Heyes, and even the Kid, still coughed a lot, but they were no longer concerned. They knew they would survive.

They continued trudging down the mountain. The incline was beginning to even out. Heyes was wearing out quickly and sitting unevenly in the saddle, but the Kid was watching him closely. They saw their first house by early afternoon. There was no one at home, but at least this house was being lived in. They saw more houses as they went, and farm animals, and people. They were offered lemonade and pie and sandwiches and informed that they were very close to a town. Raffier. Named after someone, they were told. They kept going; the land was evening out and it was easier to walk. The Kid had a plan, and they wanted to sleep in beds that night.

By mid-afternoon they reached Raffier. It wasn't much of a town, but they were delighted to see that it had a couple of saloons and at least a small hotel. The Kid walked the horse to the hotel and helped Heyes down.

"Think I'll just sit over here for a while," said Heyes, pointing to a bench in front of the hotel. The Kid rummaged through pockets to come up with enough money for the room, once again ruing the loss of the gold. He walked into the hotel. In a moment he emerged with a room key and a big smile. "I had money left over, Heyes!"

Heyes smiled at him. "Good, Kid. Why don't you go get something to eat? Or a beer? I think I just want to sit here for a while."

"Nothing doing," said the Kid, taking Heyes's arm and forcing him to stand. "You're going right up to that room and get some rest. I had what you did, remember? I know you're not feeling the best yet, so you need to sleep. Let's go."

Heyes sighed and acquiesced, allowing himself to be led toward the hotel door. But then he stopped. The Kid stopped. They both saw something at the same time that caught their eye. Halfway down the street, tied to a hitching post in front of a modest house with a picket fence, was a horse. Not just any horse. Heyes's horse. The one the gold thief had stolen.

"Do you see what I see?" "I don't believe it!" "He's here - in this town."

"And I'm going to do something about it," said the Kid in a very determined voice. He started walking toward the house. Heyes made a grab for him but the Kid shook him off.

"Don't, Kid! We've got a plan, remember? Don't go spoiling it!"

"He took our gold, Heyes. And our horses and bedrolls. And he gave us this miserable grippe that almost killed both of us! He has to pay!"

"No, Kid!" moaned Heyes. But he knew it was no use. He tagged along behind the Kid on the way to the house with the picket fence.

When the Kid got to the horse, he examined it to make sure it was the same animal. He didn't want to be making any mistakes. No mistake - it was Heyes's horse, all right. Both their gunbelts - guns intact - were slung across the saddle horn. He threw Heyes's gunbelt to him and slowly and deliberately buckled his own gunbelt on, making sure to tie it down. He pulled out the gun, spun the barrel, and checked for bullets. He was apparently pleased with what he saw.

But Heyes was not. Whenever a gunfight was pending, there was always the chance that this would be the opponent who could bring the Kid down. Heyes thought back to what he could remember about the gold thief. The man didn't seem to be a formidable adversary, but you could not know for sure. Heyes felt himself panicking. He buckled on his own gunbelt but knew that neither of them was in good enough shape for any serious gun battle.

He tried talking to the Kid again. "Listen, Kid, it's just gold. Who cares about it? We can get more. You're not well enough for a fast draw yet."

"It's _our_ gold!" growled the Kid. "And _he_ stole it!" He started walking to the door.

Heyes knew he was licked. He thought about pleading, but instinctively knew it would do more harm than good. His only option now was to back his friend in a gunfight. He knew he would be next to useless with his still limited strength. He might even start coughing. That image flashed into his mind but didn't bring a smile to his lips. Hannibal Heyes was scared.

When they reached the front porch, Heyes saw a sign on the building that said "Dr. Mortimer Adamson, Medical Doctor." The Kid didn't appear to notice it, but he did see the small sign near the door handle that said "Please Enter." So he did, gun drawn.

With Heyes right behind him, the Kid advanced slowly through the hallway to a lighted room near the back of the house. The house was quiet except for a male voice humming. The Kid turned to look at Heyes, who shrugged his shoulders. The Kid entered the lighted room noiselessly and effortlessly. The man who was humming was obviously the doctor. He was working at a desk and did not see his guests.

Although Heyes stood nervously behind him with his own gun holstered, the Kid pointed his gun at the doctor and said, "Where's the man who owns the horse out front?"

The doctor, an elderly man, was completely surprised to look up and find two men standing in his office. He was even more surprised to see that one of them was pointing a gun at him. "Is . . . is this a hold-up?" he asked nervously, raising his hands.

"No hold-up," said the Kid. "I want the man whose horse is tied up outside. He's the thief here."

"Not here. Down the street," replied the doctor nervously.

"_Where_ down the street?" asked the Kid, his patience clearly growing thin.

Without answering, the doctor looked nervously from the Kid to his gun to Heyes and back again. All he managed to say was, "Uh . . ."

"Put the gun down, Kid," Heyes whispered to his partner. As the gun was being lowered, he said, "It's OK, Doc, you can put your hands down. All we want is to talk to the man who owns that horse."

"Then that would be me," said the doctor. "What do you want?"

"Uh, no, Doc, we want the man who brought the bay here. Where is he?"

"You a friend of his?"

The Kid stiffened. "No, Doc, we're not friends of his. We have business."

The doctor repositioned his chair. "Well, then, I guess I can tell you. He's down the street at the undertaker's. He died a couple hours ago."

Heyes and the Kid exchanged a look. "Died?" they said together.

"He came in a couple days ago with the worst case of grippe I ever saw. I did my best for him, but he was too far gone."

"He's dead?" asked the Kid again, this time in a feeble voice.

"He was here a while. I gave him the strongest medicine I had but his lungs were too affected."

Heyes cleared his throat. "Doc, that bay out front was stolen from us by that man. That's my horse and all my gear. And the man stole a bag from us, too. Did you see it?"

Now the doctor was starting to understand. He no longer felt that he was in danger and relaxed visibly. "What kind of bag?"

"A small brown leather bag. It belonged to us."

"Don't recall anything like that, but there are his things in the corner over there. You're welcome to take a look . . . "

The Kid bolted for the pile of clothes and, gun still in hand, sifted through everything. Heyes helped him. No leather pouch. "That's _all?" _moaned Heyes.

The Kid stood slowly and faced the doctor. "All right, where is it?" he said icily.

The doctor clearly was confused. "The bag? I have no idea. Maybe it's still on the horse."

"It's not. We already checked. Where is it, Doc?" The Kid assumed the stance of a gunfighter.

"Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, I don't have any bag. Everything that man came in with is in that pile." He sounded like he was telling the truth.

"I don't believe you, Doc. I want that bag. NOW!" The Kid was angry and threatening.

"Kid . . ." whispered Heyes.

But the doctor did not react the way the Kid wanted. He became indignant. "I don't know anything about any bag you're looking for! But I'll tell you one thing, young fella. I've lived nigh on to eighty years now and I've helped people all my life. Some of them have come in here with bullet wounds and I nursed them back to health. Bullet wounds caused by men like _you_, I expect. Men like you have no respect for life and no fear of death. Well, I'm not afraid to die any more either at my age. But if you feel you'd like to kill a man for a leather bag, then go ahead. I'm not afraid of you!"

The Kid weakened and lowered his gun. He heard Heyes say, "He doesn't have it, Thaddeus," before he turned and walked out.

Heyes lingered and turned back to the doctor. "I'm sorry, Doc. He wouldn't have shot you. He's just very angry for the loss. We worked very hard for what was in that bag."

The doctor relaxed again. "If that's what you're worried about, I can tell you he didn't have it. It was gold, wasn't it?"

"Why do you say that?"

"When he first got here I told him what my fee was and he said he didn't have any money. He said he had a bag of gold but had lost it on the way here and he didn't know where. That's probably your leather bag. He was mighty sick so it would have slipped from his grasp somewhere. But he came in with two horses and told me I could have them."

"The bay is mine," said Heyes, still trying to ingest the meaning of the last words.

"I see that now. You take your bay and I'll keep the other horse he brought in for payment."

"It's a loss, Doc. And we were sick, too. All because of him."

"You mean you had the same grippe and now you're better?" The doctor was amazed.

"We almost died. Both of us."

"That's amazing! It was a very strong strain. You're lucky you're both still alive!"

Heyes looked toward the door, toward his partner. Then he gave the doctor a feeble smile and a nod. "We're lucky, all right."

A moment later Heyes found the Kid outside, sitting in his saddle, waiting patiently for his partner. Heyes mounted up but neither of them moved.

The Kid spoke first. "What do you think are the chances we can find that gold?"

"Needle in a haystack, Kid."

"Do you mind trying?"

Heyes sighed. "It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'look for gold.'"

The Kid sighed, too, and looked down. "I don't want to be angry any more. I don't want to be sick like that ever again, either."

They sat for a couple more minutes, each in his own thoughts. As it turned out, they were thinking the same things. Heyes shook his head. "The Doc said we're lucky we're still alive."

The Kid looked at him with fondness. After a moment, he said wistfully, "We're lucky, all right."

"Well, Kid?"

The Kid sighed. No more anger. "No more gold, Heyes."

"I agree. No more gold."

"No, I mean it. No more gold."

"No more gold."

"What do you say we get us a couple good night's sleep in a soft bed?" It was the most comforting thing either of them could think of. A simple featherbed and warmth with a roof over their heads. It was the little things that really mattered. They had both been through a kind of hell lately. Without actually saying it, they knew they deserved a break from the stress.

They both started walking their mounts in the direction of the hotel when they were startled by gunshots. A young man, probably drunk, was riding recklessly into town shooting his gun in the air and laughing wildly. He was shouting something but seemed so excited that he was incoherent. He rode his horse to the nearest saloon, grabbed a small pouch tied onto his saddlehorn, and ran inside.

Heyes and Curry exchanged looks.

"Did you see what he was carrying?"

"Yeah, I saw what he was carrying, all right!"

"The hell with featherbeds. Let's play poker!"

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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